


The Handkerchief Hesitation

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: First Misses [8]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 14:44:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17983082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: For a prompt from ZoeSong. I changed the glove to a handkerchief because we’ve done G :)





	The Handkerchief Hesitation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZoeSong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeSong/gifts).



> For a prompt from ZoeSong. I changed the glove to a handkerchief because we’ve done G :)

Strike and Robin strolled along Tottenham Court Road, dodging the tourists and making their way steadily back from the Tube station. Their pace was unhurried, the week almost at an end.

Strike was feeling satisfied with a job well done. Their finance meeting in the City had gone well. In her ivory blouse and navy suit, with her hair slicked back in a ponytail, heels clicking smartly on shiny floors he had trouble with, Robin had looked every inch the image of corporate respectability, carrying off the role in a way he sometimes felt his sheer size precluded. No matter how well he dressed, his large frame and battered features retained an aura of the boxer. Robin had looked so at home that, not for the first time, he’d thanked his lucky stars that she had chosen working with him over one of these glass and steel palaces of money.

They had chatted all the way to the Tube, Robin exhilarated by how well the meeting had gone, and then discretion had forced their silence when crammed into a busy carriage. Now, free once again apart from the constant flow of tourists, they strolled in companionable silence, at an easy pace he knew she had slowed to to save his leg.

They got on so well, even when they weren’t talking, he mused. And today’s job was going to be a big payer. The evening sun slanted off the windows either side of them, and evening London glowed softly. A more poetic person might say romantically.

Strike was seized by a sudden, irrational urge to ask Robin out, properly. Not just a glass of house white at the Tottenham. Somewhere nice. They were dressed to the nines. Places wouldn’t be too busy on a Thursday. There was a lovely Italian not far away that did a really good wine selection and delicious regional Florentine food. He’d dreamed about taking Robin there, imagining her in the cosy little restaurant, at a table for two opposite him, her eyes on his...

Why not? She was divorced. They were both single, had been for some time. They were dressed up. There was a plausible reason to celebrate, even though the job hadn’t actually paid yet, but it was almost finished.

His heart in his mouth, Strike heard himself say, “D’you fancy dinner? I’m hungry.”

“Sure,” Robin replied. “Tottenham? I just want to pop back to the office and change back into my trousers, get rid of the jacket.”

“Um...” Strike hesitated. “Actually, there’s a place round the corner—”

“Hang on a mo, sorry.” Robin darted forward suddenly. Something had fallen from the pocket of an elderly woman in front of them. She snatched it up. “Excuse me!”

Strike paused and watched as Robin tapped the woman on the arm. “You dropped this,” she said, smiling, holding out the pretty handkerchief, a scrap of pink fabric with a wobbly pattern visible down one edge.

The woman gasped. “Oh, thank you, dear!” she cried. “My granddaughter made that for me at school. I’d have been so upset to lose it, I’ve treasured it for years.”

“Ah, glad I could help,” Robin said, her blue-grey eyes warm and friendly.

“Yes, years,” the woman went on. “She’s in her twenties now, must be your age, dear. She went to High Holborn School, did you know her? Sally, looks a lot like you, she’s a redhead too—”

Robin was shaking her head, laughing. “I’m from Yorkshire,” she said. “I only moved to London a couple of years ago.”

“My cousin lives in Yorkshire!”

Strike stepped away and slightly into a side road and lit a cigarette. He smoked and regarded the scene fondly, as Robin and the elderly woman chatted. Was there no one his partner couldn’t charm, who didn’t immediately love her? He watched as the woman drew a mobile phone from her bag and, after much fumbling, showed Robin a picture on it. Robin examined it politely.

The conversation continued, and to Strike’s amusement, Robin looked around for him and pointed him out to her new friend, who gave him an appraising look, nodded wisely, and said something to Robin that made her roar with laughter and nod. Intrigued, Strike carried on observing them, enjoying an uninterrupted view of Robin while her attention was otherwise engaged.

In a couple more minutes, Strike had finished his cigarette and could see Robin politely trying to make her escape. He stepped forward, and then paused, amused again, as the elderly woman insisted on kissing Robin firmly on both cheeks before letting her go. They said their goodbyes and Robin fell into step next to Strike again.

He grinned at her fondly. “Made a new friend?”

Robin laughed. “Thought I was never going to get away.”

“What were you saying to her about me?”

Robin flushed. “I, er, told her we were together. I hope you don’t mind. Sally has a brother, apparently, and she was trying to make me take his number or give me hers so she could set us up.”

She laughed a little. “I was with Matt so long, I’ve always been shielded from that kind of thing. I only ever had to say ‘I’ve got a boyfriend,’ or ‘I’m engaged’.” She glanced up at him. “It was the first thing that came into my head, sorry.”

Strike shook his head. “No worries at all,” he said. “What did she say?”

Robin grinned. “She looked at you very hard, and told me I had my hands full,” she said with a chuckle. “I agreed.”

Strike wasn’t sure what to make of that. “What do you mean?” he couldn’t help asking, curious.

Robin waved her hand vaguely. “Nothing, particularly,” she said. “You know, I was just agreeing with her. It’s just fiction, right?”

“Right.” Just fiction.

There was a pause as they walked. Robin sighed a little. “London is so pretty sometimes,” she said.

“Yeah, it is.”

“So, Tottenham?”

“Lead the way.”

 


End file.
